True Colours

                                                           True Colours         May 2017

        My Irish grandmother was full of puzzling sayings - "He sees everything in black and white", or "She's showing her true colours."
      Was everything black and white in the olden days when you were young, Grandma? I wondered why the whole family laughed at me – after all I knew her world had no colours – what about all those albums full of black-and-white photographs in the Charlie Chaplin films she took me to see?
      The life back in Ireland only seemed to be black-and-white because the priests and nuns were so strict and they dressed in those colours too, but Ireland was the greenest place I ever saw” she said, “I guess the the grass is always greener on the other side of the world’s fence, too”.
     "Oh," I replied, "so that's why the farm cows stretch their necks to reach the grass on our side of the fence, or our cow likes the farmer’s grass on their side."
       A few days later our Jersey cow had a little calf by her side,"Pity he's a Bobby" said dad – "he will have to go". One dreadful day our cow was crying and Bobby was nowhere in sight, and I was very sad for our poor cow. I decided to climb through the fence and see if one of the farmer's little calves would like to come home with me and be our new calf instead of the missing Bobby. The one I chose was the same size as me, and even though I pulled hard, with my arms around his neck, he refuse to move and mooed loudly. The angry mother knocked me to the ground and battered and stamped me into the muddy field. I wailed loudly until my own mother went to my rescue.
      "Look at the state of you, you silly little girl. You will be black and blue". I cried at the thought of this and begged to be allowed to stay the same colour I already was. While I recovered from my injuries I received a new paint box and brushes and sheets of blank paper. I loved all those true colours, spread on the paper with a brush and water, they were like magic to me. Even more exciting were the empty holes in the bottom row of the paint box where you could mix red and yellow and make orange, or mix blue and yellow and see the beloved green of Ireland.
      On my fourth birthday, an open parcel revealed a book of Aesop's Fables, full of lovely colour pictures. I fell in love with the Fox, the glorious read/golf are, his dainty feet and nose; the magnificent brushy tail and perky years – "You can take your book to Auckland on the train to Auckland, when we visit Grandma", mother promised.
      The downtown tram in Auckland had rattling hard wooden seats, so I stood and faced the other passengers. To my horror and disbelief, a woman on the seat behind us had a fox lying around her neck. It looked sad and flat with poor little head and front paws on one side, and back legs and droopy tail hanging down the woman's front. It was the DEAD.
      I gave her my most ferocious glare and shouted loudly – "You're a very nasty lady, aren't you! ".
      Grandma ghasped and apologized to the woman – "She sees everything in black-and-white, she is showing her true colours today. She blotted her copybook, I'm afraid" – well, I hadn't heard that one before but it became even more puzzling. I heard her muttering, as we hastilygot down from the tram – "she will lead someone a merry dance one day and she will never suffer fools gladly that's for sure."
      But I was suffering having been smacked soundly by my mother, the woman on the tram was a fool and there was nothing glad about the sight of the poor dead fox.
      After we all recovered from the upset, we went to Grandma's favourite tea rooms in the basement of Rendells in Karangahape Road. Everything was so grand – little round tables with snowy lace-edged cloths gleaming silver cake stands with tiers of tasty treats - "You can choose whatever you want", said generous Grandma. So I did, and carefully filled my plate. "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,",observed the lady bringing a silver tray with matching teapot, jugs and bowls. I ploughed steadily through my delicious food, determined to prove my eyes were not connected to my stomach.
      Then we crossed the busy road and into Saint Kevin's Arcade with its potted palms, fancy iron railings, lots of little shops, cheeping aviary full of birds, and descended a dark staircase – "The dear old Tivolli theatre" – announced Grandma, fondly, and my spirits plummeted, not another old Charlie Chaplin movie, please! Tricked and lead down grandmas garden path again!
      "Happy birthday dear. Let's go and see the new Walt Disney full-colour, all-talking – Pinocchio!” I was spellbound for sure, my first colour movie. My excitement grew when a jaunty fox befriended Pinocchio and persuaded him to join lots of other boys on an island where they ate and drank and behaved badly and all turned into lovely furry donkeys. This delighted me even more because donkeys are much more lovable than boys, aren't they now?
      Thank you, Grandma, I'm so happy because you have at last discovered the wonderful world of true colours.